


la fin [the end]

by beautifuldisgrace



Series: cypresses in the wind [1]
Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pretty painful, Sad Ending, Sadness, Tragedy, cyclical narrative mwahahaha, im sorry, many tears shed, oop i don't write angst often but this one's a doozy, or am i????, references to v for vendetta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:42:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25558294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifuldisgrace/pseuds/beautifuldisgrace
Summary: they say ardhalis’s most notorious killer died a hero’s death.
Relationships: Lauren Sinclair/Kieran White
Series: cypresses in the wind [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875328
Comments: 12
Kudos: 44





	la fin [the end]

**Author's Note:**

> first of all, a HUGE thank you to [lovelybluemoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelybluemoon/pseuds/lovelybluemoon) for beta-reading this fic! <3
> 
> second, this fic references v for vendetta quite a lot (and kind of spoils the ending) so if you haven't seen it yet, i'd suggest watching it first. 
> 
> third, to maximize angst and ~feels~, here's the recommended soundtrack to listen to while reading: [Clair De Lune Ethereal Remix](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NTfeMhyyy5o)

“Kieran, don’t do this.”

“Shhh, _mon amour_. **I’ll be all right**.”

A lie, and they both knew it. If seven bullets to the chest didn’t kill him, the guilt surely would.

“You don’t have to do this. W-we’ll find another way.” Her voice broke, her words bargaining, like pain was something that could be simply exchanged for golden coins.

He brought his hand to her cheek. His fingers traced scarlet streaks on her pale skin, reminding him of the charcoal drawings that brought him solace when he was at his worst. 

“The Leader and the rest of the Apostles are at the train station. The 7th may be dead, but the others are still out there. It only takes one to pull the lever, darling.”

It was fitting, really, if this was how it would end. A train station, an explosion. A faint smile flitted across his face as he took in the rows upon rows of dynamite arranged neatly in the car. At Allendale, they’d taken everything away from him. Now, he would take everything away from the Scythe.

His torso was on fire, white-hot sharpness forcing its way into him like shards of glass. Kieran felt drops of water falling on his face. Salty. Looking up through the haze, he saw the face of his angel, her eyes shining with tears. God, she was  _ crying _ . His strong, beautiful partner. Crying.

“Stay with me, Kieran,” she said. But the hopeful glint of her golden eyes was already fading. Less like the sun, and more like twin moons now. The ghost of a laugh crossed his lips.  _ La Lune _ . Bringers of justice. Together, they’d been invincible.

Until they weren’t.

The room was spinning again. Was it supposed to do that? 

He was suddenly aware of the cold stone beneath him, sending shivers down his spine. He coughed, red rivers spilling from his lungs. It was choking him, drowning him. Would he ever be able to escape the bloodshed? The crimes that marked him, like a firebrand to cattle. But deep down, he already knew the answer.

Kieran tucked a piece of her hair behind her ears. Red, but it was different. It was the red of his happiest days, of trust, of love.

“Talk to me,” he rasped, holding her hand in his own.

She was silent for a few moments, then whispered, “The first mission. At McTrevor’s. We rehearsed what we were going to say when he came in and you-” she sniffed, “-you were always a beat too late.”

He could see it clearly in his head now. The two of them, dressed in matching coats and top hats, basking in the moonlight.

“I got it in the end, didn’t I?” He chuckled weakly, then felt his stomach convulse. With difficulty, he fought back the bile--his last battle.

It was bitterly cold in the train car, but her hands were warm. He took one final look at his beloved, and breathed, “I’m sorry, Lauren.”

Then, he was still.

Dry sobs racked her chest. Lauren brushed a stray strand of dark hair from his face, which had miraculously been untouched by bullets. She planted a small kiss on his cool forehead. Gingerly, she laid a final purple bloom in his hands.

Only in death, it seemed, could the Purple Hyacinth find peace.

**Author's Note:**

> :')
> 
> am i trying to predict the ending of ph even though s2 has barely started? yes, yes i am.


End file.
